Of Maple Leaves and Wurst
by HandwrittenStories
Summary: A collection of drabbles all about Germany and Canada.
1. Musings

It's completely unorthodox. There's nothing that should link us together; he's not my father, not my brother, not my neighbor. He isn't my enemy, we've never fought or held a treaty. He's just Germany.

None of the other countries expected it. They thought that France would come back to sink his claws into America and I had something and it was just a matter of time before I ended up with one of them. He was destined to fall in love with Italy or Romano, not a shy country from the North.

What an unlikely couple we make, but I wouldn't want things any other way. I love his calloused hands stroking my hair when we cuddle. His strong arms around me when we hug. His slightly parched lips that tell me tender things I don't understand; that kiss me so gently.

He can spot me across a crowded room. He finds me and slips his hand into mine. We walk together, nobody sees me, only Germany alone. But it doesn't matter like it used to, he sees me, he pulls me close and our lips meet. He whispers that I'm beautiful, and I wrap my arms around his waist and listen to the steady rhythm of his heart.

At night I cuddle close to him and play with his fingers. I gently kiss his palms and cheeks. I'm too shy to meet his mouth, instead I hide shyly in his neck and mumble in French, he chuckles and pets me softly. I look into his eyes and blush furiously. I sleep so soundly in his arms every night; my dreams are filled with gentle things now, the nightmares quelled by his presence.

When I wake his heart still greets me, He once confessed that it quickens every time I'm near. He kisses my forehead and murmurs gently, "Good morning Canada,"


	2. First Kiss

Kissing someone for the first time is always frightening. Kissing someone you love for the first time is completely terrifying. The first time I kissed the person I love was the most nerve wracking experience I've ever had.

Canada and I had been walking together along the coast near his home. The wind played at his hair which shone brightly in the setting sun. I nervously tugged at the hem of my coat, wishing I could regain enough sense to button it again when suddenly we reached a pile of rocks that ended the shoreline.

"Hey Germany, let's climb it," Canada said pulling himself up a rock.

I followed his lead nearly passing him as I made my way to the crest of the formation. I was stronger than him by far but he still managed to reach the top before me. On top of the rocks the wind was much stronger. My coat billowed around me while the wind dug underneath the fabric of my shirt. A chill ran up my spine, the evenings were freezing up here in the North.

I fumbled in my pockets for my gloves, finding nothing inside them. I must have left back at the house. I'd never left anywhere unprepared before, what could have made me forget? Canada, he stopped by my room and asked if I was ready, I must have been so distracted by…by-

"Germany?" that.

"Yes?" My throat was dry all of a sudden.

Canada's deep violet eyes met mine, his head cocked to the side as he motioned next to him, "Why don't you take a seat,"

When had he sat down? I must have missed it when I was looking for my gloves. I sat down, uneasy about being so close to him. The waves broke over the coast and we sat silently. I knew I should say something, but the words wouldn't form.

"Is it always this cold in the evening?" I blurted out. Regretting it even as my mouth released the question.

His lips twitched and a smile came to his face. For some reason my heartbeat pounded in my ears and my stomach fluttered.

"Yeah, it can be a little brisk at night," It was surprising how the bashfulness I was so accustomed to had left Canada so suddenly.

Heat suddenly rushed into my cheeks and I turned away. For some reason beyond my understanding I was suddenly at a loss for what to do next. I cursed myself for being out and took a deep breath; there wasn't any reason for me to be acting so strangely, I should regain my composer and continue what I was doing.

"Are you okay?" Canada asked peering at my from under his wind tossed hair.

The sound I made next wasn't anything close to a coherent word.

"Your cheeks are flushed," he said placing a palm against my face. His fingers were cool against my skin.

Our eyes met, his gentle, mine, I'm not even sure. Suddenly Canada's fingers were too hot against my skin, I gently pulled his hand away keeping it clutched in mine. A strong gust of wind came and blew the final shreds of sense out of my body.

I leaned forward and our lips met.

His mouth was warm and his lips soft. A warmth spread throughout me chasing away the cold air around us. The world fell away from us until we were sitting in a bubble of calm. Our joined hands clutched one another's and I felt his hair tickle my face as he leaned closer. Canada's hand rested on my chest keeping him steady as I brought my free hand to his hip.

I wanted to stay that way forever but my lungs finally rebelled. I pulled away and found myself staring into Canada's shocked eyes. Horror rose up in me as I realized what I had just done.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered letting go of him.

I tried to get up but something held me firmly on the rock. It was Canada, his hand now resting on my shoulder. I felt so panicked, ha had to be angry with me.

"Wow, that was…different than how I thought our first kiss would go," he said.

"You, you…what?" I asked fear and excitement making a wonderful brew in my stomach.

He chuckled softly, "I didn't think the first time we'd kiss wouldn't happen like this," I felt his fingers playing with my collar.

"You, you didn't…" I trailed off absorbing what he'd just said.

"No, not really," his eyes glinted mischievously. His mouth hovered centimeters from mine.

"How did you," I swallowed hard, "picture it exactly?"

His breath tickled my face as he exhaled, "Like this," the distance closed and his warmth crept back into me.


	3. I Love You

"Germany?" I ask one day.

"Yes?" he answers.

His calloused fingers stroke my hair aimlessly. I stare up at the canopy of leaves over our heads, thinking hard about the question on my mind. _Do I really want to ask?_

"Nevermind," I turn my head in his lap and look away from his demanding blue eyes.

"Canada," He leans over so I have to look at him again. "Don't bring something up and then brush it off. Now tell me."

My cheeks heat up as a build enough willpower to force the words out.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes," he answers quickly, no time between what I asked and his answer.

The very thing that's bothering me.

He always says that he loves me. When we wake up in the morning, when I'm overlooked at world meetings. He says he loves me, shows me he loves me, there isn't anything lacking from his displays of affection. But still the next question bursts from my lips.

"Why?"

"Because I do," Germany keeps stroking my hair.

"That's not an answer!" I push his hand away and let out a huff of air. Suddenly I'm looking at the horizon instead of Germany, I must have sat up without really noticing.

I would never push the question this far, I wouldn't have even brought it up. But it's been bothering me for weeks now since America mentioned it.

"_You two sure are a weird couple!" _He'd said in his overloud voice. _"It's a wonder you guys get along at all!_"

That had gotten me thinking, why does Germany stay with me? What could I possibly offer as a partner?

"What happened?" Germany asks me. I feel his hands rest on my shoulders.

"Nothing," I say wishing that I hadn't brought it up.

"'Nothing' doesn't make you this upset. Sometimes 'something' doesn't even make you unhappy," he says coaxing my head back into his lap. He crosses an arm over my chest. "Now tell me what happened,"

"America just said some things, that's all."

"And you believed them," he isn't accusing me, just trying to figure out the whole story.

I nod reaching out to hold Germany's hand. His fingers are warm, heated by the afternoon sun.

"You're always relaxed," he says suddenly.

"Huh?" The statement catches me off guard.

"That's one of the reasons I love you. You always stay calm," he says again.

I must have a stupid grin on my face he answered the question.

"Let me think of what else," he pauses for a moment. "You're patient with everyone, you're giving and kind," I feel myself beginning to blush.

"You also _look_ very captivating," Germany brings our lips together for a searing kiss.

I relax letting myself gat lost in in the warmth of his mouth and the feel of his heart beating with mine. It's perfect, this moment. I pull away reluctantly, the weight of his body lingers and I feel content.

"Now it's your turn," Germany says smoothing my hair again.

I think trying to pick out exactly what it is about Germany that I love. In short it's everything; his personality, his voice, how he holds me at night. I love everything about him, but I know that it isn't a good enough answer.

"Your smile," I say.

"My smile? "It must have seemed odd. Of all the things I could have picked, anything, but I bring up this.

"You don't smile that much in front of everyone else. But when we're together you're happy all the time, it's like it's something special just for me,"

"R-really?" I notice his cheeks flush.

"Yes," I say "But it's not just that, you're always collected and think everything through. You never panic or overreact. You don't waste time trying to pacify others but still stay at peace with everyone else. And you…" I trail off, face burning.

"What?" Germany asks.

"You always say that you love me," I hear my heartbeat in my ears.

The distance between us gets smaller and smaller. I see the details in his eyes, darker flecks of blue in his irises like a precious stone. I feel his breath ghost over my face. My pulse races and every nerve comes alive and I feel Germany around me with every part of my body.

"I love you," he murmurs and our lips connect again.


	4. Stress

His life is stressful, that's something I know well.

Italy is a handful enough as it is, but ever since he unified with Romano things have been even worse. America pulled him into war with the Middle East, now his relations there aren't a good as they once were. And the world still harbors some resentment for what happened in the Second World War. It's a wonder that he doesn't snap sometimes, all the pressure building and building inside of him.

Maybe that's why I'm here.

He doesn't let anyone else see it, but the stress does take its toll. In front of the other countries he's composed and powerful, a dignified expression and serious attitude. When we're alone he's tired and vulnerable, there's uncertainty in his eyes and he second guesses his actions. He gets distracted and absorbed in his work.

Everyone ignores that he is, in fact, a being that can feel. They seem to think that he can be attack and abused endlessly. Just because he can endure so much, just because Prussia is his brother. The country that yells himself horse quieting other's bickering isn't the same person I sit with in the evenings.

When we return home every evening I see the tension descend on him like storm clouds. As he hangs up his coat he seems to leave the charade of being at ease on the hook with it. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. Often times I reach out and simply hold him; I'm small and shorter than him, but I try my best to be a physical comfort to him. He doesn't seem to mind as I whisper comforting things to him, stroking his hair and pressing kisses everywhere I can reach.

I make sure to give him all my attention when we're together. Nobody thinks about his feelings, they act like he doesn't have any. While I can't stop my brother and the other nations from being ridiculous or speak up so that world meetings don't get out of hand, I can listen to him. I can embrace him and sympathize with his problems. He needs someone who isn't caught up in their own problems, and I'm the least troubled of any nation since I go unnoticed all the time.

Sometimes I have to put my own needs aside to comfort him. Being ignored at any sort of conference annoys me, but sometimes is a blessing, I'm not sure if I could cope with the kinds of things that he's been put through. In a way he's taken the burden that we both would have faced if I was visible. It seems that we were made for each other in this way.

By the end of the night he's almost completely at ease. I feel a bit proud that I can give him a sanctuary when he comes home. It gives me even more reason to remain calm.

Because his life is stressful, and that's something that I know well.

A/N I'm changing the way I update stories. Stories with the most reviews will get my attention quicker. If it comes down to a tie I'll decide based on the quality of reviews. Curently this story is tied with "The Prettiest Girl at the Ball", but gets priority because of Tyler4768's two awesome reviews. So for the fastest updates please leave a comment!


	5. Admitting It

France was never the type of person who called before visiting. Sometimes he didn't even bother to _knock_ before visiting. Luckily that day had been one on which the European nation did remember that in fact, people did lock their doors for privacy and that sometimes it is more courteous to allow others a moment to compose themselves before receiving company.

But for Canada a moment was far from enough.

The knock had come suddenly and early in the morning, waking Canada with a sudden jolt. He looked at Germany sleeping next to him, no doubt exhausted after staying up all hours of the night working. At the foot of the bed lay Kumajiro, in a deep sleep oblivious to the world around him. The knocking echoed through the house again, startling Canada back into reality. Still rubbing his eyes, he went downstairs to see who it was.

He opened the door on the slight dusting of snow that had fallen the night before. A cool breeze blew inside sending a chill down his spine. Outside stood the northern nation's older brother.

"Canada! It's good to see you!" The taller nation rushed forward to hug the smaller man.

"France! What are you doing here?" The younger of the two choked out.

"Well I wanted to see you of course." France shut the door and hung up his coat, finding his way to the spacious living room. "So tell me, how have you been?"

"W-well, I've been fine. But could we maybe talk some other-"

"That's good! Your economy is not struggling too much I hope?"

"Yes, yes it's fine. I'll tell you more about it la-"

"Great. I'm happy that you're doing well. America is still trying to pull himself together, some of his citizens are trying to succeed you know. I don't think they will though, you know how involved his government is-"

"France please! I appreciate your visit, I really do, it's just that-"

"But of course, I'm always here for you Canada." The older blond smiled at the other, blue eyes sparkling as he regarded his younger brother.

The younger of the two sighed. Sometimes it was impossible to get through to his older brother.

Right now he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with Kumajiro and Germany and go back to sleep. It was still early in the morning, the sun not even shining too brightly through the giant window on one side of the room. A chill was still in the air from the temperature dropping the night before and Canada shivered in the thin t-shirt and pants he wore to bed. If only France would stop talking and leave, he could huddle down under the thick blankets upstairs.

"Hmm, Canada; you're up all ready?" Germany stood in the doorway with Kumajiro in his arms.

France turned, surprised by the other person who had entered the room. He looked to Canada, "You didn't tell me that you had company over."

"Um, yes well… it's because… I, erm, well-"

"Who is he?" Kumajiro interrupted.

"Canada, your owner." Germany sighed putting the troublesome polar bear down on the ground.

He padded over to Canada and sat at his feet, big black eyes stared up at him innocently. "I'm hungry!"

Canada patted the creature on his head. "Of course you are, you're always hungry." He turned to France who still watched them, brow furrowed. "Would you like to stay for breakfast?"

The older blond snapped out of his thoughts. "Oh yes, of course."

The three rearranged themselves in the kitchen. France at the dining table with Kumajiro lying at his feet, Canada and Germany busy with the preparation of breakfast.

Canada pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes and set out to work. Quickly he combined flour, eggs, milk, and everything else into a bowl, nervously casting glances at France the entire time. Meanwhile Germany began washing and slicing fruit to serve alongside the pancakes. He went about his work contently still a bit groggy but otherwise happy to help his boyfriend prepare a meal.

France surveyed the two with interest the entire time, observing their every move and scrutinizing the looks that passed between them. He absentmindedly scratched Kumajiro behind the ears, more intent on his owner and the tall German beside him. They were acting rather odd for two business partners; it was bad enough that both of them were still dressed in their bed clothes, but they also had this way of moving about the kitchen together that hinted at something more than friendship.

As Canada placed a skillet on the stove Germany stood directly behind him to reach for a serving bowl. It brought the two of them extremely close, it was something that mere acquaintances would never do. To be so near each other would make anyone uncomfortable, even France wouldn't allow business partners that close to him. There was definitely something else.

He petted Kumajiro some more, dwelling on what could be between his former colony and the stronger European country.

"Hungry!" the little polar bear whined from underneath the table snapping Canada out of his thoughts.

He hurried and finished the last of the pancakes setting a plate at the center of the table and set places for the three of them. Germany placed the bowl of fruit next down, making sure to put food on everyone's plate. He also took out a fish and gave it to the fluffy white animal by France's, who gratefully devoured it and curled up between the couple, who sat across from the older blond. Germany smiled at Kumajiro and then at Canada letting their hands brush as both of them scratched him between the ears. He gave the other's slender fingers a squeeze completely oblivious to the other person present. France noticed this, and piecing it together with his other observations came to a conclusion.

"So, how long have to two been dating?" he asked.

Canada instantly froze and Germany gave the other a worried look unsure of what was wrong. Canada choked on a piece of pancake and stared at his older brother unsure of how to answer. On the one hand they were together, it was the truth and he knew there was nothing to be ashamed of. But on the other hand he wanted their relationship kept private, there was something intimate about their feelings for one another, like a well-kept secret the two of them shared.

"We-"

"We're not dating! What would give you that idea?" Canada cut Germany off with a pleading look.

"Oh no reason," France shared a look with the muscular nation across the table from him and his nervous little brother. "I just thought I'd ask, in case there was anything you didn't feel like telling me. But I guess I was wrong."

They finished their meal in uncomfortable silence; France with a look of knowing on his face, Germany with an expression of bewilderment, and Canada staring at the food before him completely red faced. Nobody dared bring up the topic again.

That was until France left, then Germany dropped his composed façade. "Why did you say that?" he asked, his eyes shining with hurt.

"I don't know, I just- I don't know."

And Canada _didn't _know. Or rather what he did know he couldn't put into words so Germany would understand.

"Are you, ashamed of our relationship? Would you rather we weren't together?"

"No! I would never want that!" Canada reached for Germany's hand but he pulled away.

"What then?" his voice was deadly, demanding. "Would you rather that we weren't together?"

"No, I-"

"I don't even want to know." He pushed past the smaller nation and stormed upstairs.

Canada stood there in complete shock, what had he just done? Now Germany might never forgive him. He couldn't let that happen.

Quickly he ran upstairs and into their bedroom throwing himself at Germany. He wrapped his arms around the others waist, clinging to him with all his might. He wouldn't let go _couldn't_ let go, not yet.

"Germany, wait please. I want to explain." He kept his arms firmly in place, not wanting to give the other a chance to break free.

"You have two minutes."

"I don't know why I lied to France, but it wasn't because I don't want anyone to know about us because I do! I really do, but I guess I was just… afraid of telling him, I was afraid that somehow, if I told him things would be different, that we'd change. I didn't want to ruin things between us I guess. But it was stupid, I love you, more than anything and I'm not afraid to say it."

Canada held on tighter. "I love you Germany. Please, I'm sorry."

The elder nation held him back, hugging the smaller man close. They stayed this way, neither one daring to move or even speak, afraid that it would ruin things between them again. This was the first time they had ever disagreed and neither knew what to do afterwards.

It was Kumajiro who finally broke the silence. "Are you two going to break up?" he asked.

The two pulled apart and laughed at the sudden intrusion. "No," Germany said patting him on the head.

Canada scooped up his little pet, "Not now, not ever."

Now the two sit together in Germany's home, cuddling on the couch. Germany keeps his arm wrapped around Canada's waist as he reads, the younger nation dozes off in his embrace. Each are content in their shared world.

It's been a month since their argument and since then they've decided that staying in the European home is the best thing for them at the moment. The lack of France and his intruding questions have made for a nice change to their daily routine. Without Canada's annoying older brother there to barge through the door had allowed them to enjoy the peace and quiet for a change. That is until-

"West! Where are you?" Prussia demands from the other room.

"In here," Germany closes the book and looks up as his brother walks.

He begins riffling through bookshelves and searches side table drawers completely intent on what he's looking for. Canada sits up, shaken from his nap and rubs his eyes only to see the albino ransacking the entire living room.

"What do you need this time?" Germany asks pinching the bridge of his nose, aggravated.

"I can't find my book on-"

Germany doesn't even let him finish before he hands Prussia the exact thing he was looking for. He then turns his attention back to Canada smoothing the stray hair away from his face. "Did you enjoy your rest?" He asks.

"Yes." Canada yawns, stretching and then lying down again with his arms around Germany.

They're prepared to go back to their lounging, letting Prussia carry on with his tasks for the afternoon. Canada nuzzles into Germany's side and is held close by and arm around his shoulders, he hums in appreciation inclined on another nap before nightfall.

Prussia makes a gagging noise in the back of his throat. "Are you two together or something? You're acting awfully clingy."

Canada and Germany look at each other, a million questions and answers passing in between them. This is it, after what happened with France this one answer is a second chance to get it right. It seems trivial to put so much stress on a single exchange, but this is Canada's way of apologizing for what happened before, a way to make it up to Germany.

"Yes." Canada says kissing Germany on the lips. "Yes we are."


	6. Like a Stone

I wait at the street corner and stare impatiently at the red light. Hastily I hunch my shoulders to bury my chin in my scarf. It's freezing out, and snow lines the streets as I trudge through the crowds of people in the crosswalk to the other side of the street. I don't even stop to look at the street signs, I know the route I'm taking by heart.

I round a corner and leave the press of hundreds of people behind. My sigh of relief became a puff of white air in the frigid cold. I'd grown to really hate crowds, there were just too many people in them. It was a good thing Germany lived in a quieter area. It was a longer walk than if he lived in the middle of the city, but I liked having some time to think about what I would say to him before I had to actually meet him.

A streetcar clatters down the railway ahead of me. I could have taken one from the hotel but lately I've been uneasy around them. There's just something about them that makes me feel uncomfortable. Germany knows this, so he never questions why I'm sometimes a little late meeting him.

I keep walking and feel something drop against the back of my head. A cold trickle of water snakes down the back of my neck and slithers beneath my scarf. I look up in time for raindrops to fall onto my glasses. A downpour starts, suddenly my hair is plastered to my forehead and my coat is soaked through. I don't have an umbrella.

I keep walking, knowing that I'm not too far away from his house. At least he isn't staying out in the country, it's a terrible hassle for me to visit him when he stays there. Not that I don't enjoy the seclusion, it just would have been impossible for me to have visited him today.

I arrive at the building drenched to the bone, but I'm still in one piece. I'm shivering as I ring the bell. I hear familure footsteps on the stairs and Prussia opens the door for me.

"You're right on time." He says as he lets me through.

I look at him, his black clothes match the gloomy look on his face. His hair is messier than usual, since he hasn't cut it in a while and I seriously doubt it's been combed in a while. His eyes are rimmed red and there are dark shadows under them. His cheeks have gotten a bit gaunt, no doubt he's been living off coffee again.

"You really should get some sleep Prussia." I shrug out of my coat and hang it up.

He looks at me, his mouth set in a frown as he looks up at me. I kick off my boots and he watches me, there's an intensity to his gaze that I've never seen before. He doesn't say anything as I finish neatly tucking my things away and walk past him in the hall. I turn back on the stairs and we share a look for a moment. I see all of our shared hurt in that one look and remind myself that even though it's hell for me he's been through so much worse.

I turn away and continue to the second floor. Even if I were blind I could still find Germany's room purely by memory. I open the door and plop down on his bed. It's firm under me as I stretch out and bury my face in one of the pillows. It still smells faintly of Germany as I inhale deeply. Even after six months his things haven't lost their scent.

Some people would call me insane for sleeping in his bed after all this time. They would say that I should get on with my life and try to forget him. But they don't understand that this is the only place I feel at ease, I can pretend that I'm waiting for him to come home.

I roll onto my side and look at the framed picture of us sitting on his nightstand, it was taken a year ago during the holidays. My hand reaches out to pick it up so I can study it closer, I always meant to thank France for taking this photo of us but I never did. I can't remember why.

I place the photo back on the table and reach for the other thing sitting right next to it. I clutch the cell phone close to my chest and run my fingers over the dents made from when it hit the pavement. I trace the cracks on the screen and the scrubbed away patterns along the side.

Unexpected tears form in my eyes and I bury my face in the pillow again. I should be past all this. It shouldn't still hurt like the day of the accident or the day of the funeral. I was supposed to get better, I was supposed to heal, only now the hole in my heart only feels bigger than ever.

I know where to place my hand even without looking. I lie perfectly still on the bed, counting the breaths it takes for me to finally get a hold of myself. I shift again and look up to see Prussia in the doorway. How long has he been standing there?

The bed dips with his weight as he sits next to me. We don't say anything for a long time, I don't think he's ever come in here on his own. I let my eyes trace over the familiar closet door and desk, the bookshelf and curtains shut against the light. I've memorized every detail of this room.

"You know, I miss him too." Prussia says.

I nod, feeling too drained to speak.

"Everyday. I still expect him to come walking through that door."

"It's all my fault." I whisper. "If I hadn't called him…"

"And told him that you loved him?"

I look up at Prussia, the faraway look in his eyes is gone for once. "You didn't do anything wrong Canada. In fact, I wish I had been the one to say goodbye instead."

I lean into the pillow again as more tears well up in my eyes. Prussia mutters something comforting under his breath as he gentle coaxes me into sitting upright and folds me into a hug. Prussia was never very affectionate before, and after Germany's death he became even more distant. Now I could feel the tiny tremors run through him as he cried. His tears feel into my already damp hair, but somehow they were colder than rain. I leaned into him, soaking his shirt through with my tears.

We're both silent, neither one of us has the energy to talk. Besides, Germany always liked peace and quiet.

**Writer's Ramble:**

**There was finally a little pause between working on ****The Prettiest Girl at the Ball**** and ****Negativestuck**** so I could finally write this. It's based off of the song **_**Like a Stone**_** by Audioslave, originally this was supposed to go with another set of drabbles but it didn't meet my criteria that I had so I put it here instead. **


	7. Scars

Scars; every nation has them. Of course some of us don't have as many as others, if you look at Ireland he's barely got any. And when it comes to Sealand, well if you didn't know any better he would seem like any other kid his age. As for me there isn't that much to see. A small puncture mark where America accidentally shot me, thinking I was England; a few little lines here and there from when France had me try fighting England right before he lost me. But other than that, nothing else than a few stray scratches that never healed, or barbed wire marks, though the wars never marked me up all that much.

Stepping out of the shower I wrap a towel around myself, waiting for most of the water to dry before heading for the bedroom. At the same time as I step into the hallway, Germany walks through the door.

"Welcome back," I smile and give him a kiss on the cheek.

He makes a little grunt of recognition, his fingers massaging his temples which can only mean one thing.

"Bad day at the office?" I ask.

"_Ja_," he kicks off his boots and sighs.

We both step into our shared bedroom and I begin rummaging through the dresser for clean clothing. Germany hangs his coat up in the closet and loosens the tie from around his neck. I dress quickly, not even bothering with a shirt and drop onto the bed.

"What happened?" I ask, waiting for him to change.

"Italy and his brother managed to get their curls tied together again." Germany sits down on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through his hair, he sighs again. "So of course they needed me to go and untie them. This is the seventh time this month." His fingers rest on the top button of his shirt, leaving it untouched, still not making any move to get undressed.

"Aren't you going to change?" He's normally so quick to shut the door to our room and put on something more comfortable.

Germany stays silent, averting his eyes from mine. There must be something serious.

"What is it?" I ask. "You can change in front of me." In fact I sort of wish he would undress in the same room as me, there's always been something so odd about how secretive he is about getting dressed.

"It's not that. "

"Then what?"

It's just…" he takes a deep breath. "There are just so many scars, it isn't something you would want to see."

I lean closer, kissing his temple and running my hands softly through his hair. "I don't care," my voice is quiet as I speak, gently working at the knot of his tie. "Show me; please."

He looks up at me, of course trying to judge just how serious I am. But really, it's impossible to grow up with people like France and America without getting used to seeing the reminders that wars leave behind.

His fingers hesitate with each button, hardly meeting my eyes as he unfastens each one. With such deliberate movements his shirt barely exposes anything. The two sides flutter together, and he makes no move to take it off. It's up to me to push the sides away, revealing pale white skin under even paler white scars. Some of them are long and jagged gashes, while others are more like burns or the sort of scratches you get from having shattered glass and bits of metal flying at your body.

"Do you-?' I brush over a mark along his shoulder, unable to finish my sentence.

"They're old," Germany's words are blunt. He still refuses to meet my eyes.

I let my hand wander over each one, tracing even the tiniest mark. Some of them have formed smooth ridges and are oddly smooth, while others are simply blemishes on his skin.

"Where did you get these?" my voice is a whisper.

"Different things." His fingers intertwine with my free hand.

"This one?" I ask, tracing a particularly long gash.

"France cut me with a saber once," he shrugs.

"When was that?" The mark is closer to the color of his skin.

"A long time ago, I can't feel it anymore," Germany offers me a ghost of a smile.

Other marks begin to stand out to me, and I can't help but question him about each one. He's patient and tells me about everyone, but it's obvious that I'm bringing up less than pleasant memories with each one. When I think that he's told me about each one I notice something on his stomach.

This scar is long and jagged, and is by far the deepest out of any. It arches along his abdomen, making it seem as though there are two parts to his torso. Branching out from this one are a bunch of tiny scratches along each side that blend in almost seamlessly with the rest of his skin.

"What are these," I take a deep breath, my touch feather light as I trace the sizable gash. "From?" For some reason it make me feel a bit sick, knowing that at some point it was a wound; no doubt he all but hemorrhaged after getting it.

Germany squeezes my hand tighter, looking away from me again. Whatever he's remembering must be painful.

"Germany, _please_." I lean my head against his shoulder, there's no way to deny that I'm begging. But I'll keep pleading until he tells me what it was that could have left a mark like this.

"You might not like the answer," calloused fingers stroke my hair.

"Please," I whisper.

Germany's other arms wraps around the small of my back and he pulls me closer. "Me," he whispers. "I did this to myself."

**Writer's Ramble**

**I was digging around in some old stuff and found this, and since I pretty much quit on my other GerCan story I figured updating this might be nice. (I don't know. Does anyone really care whether I update or not?) Anyway, since I'm basically out of stuff to write I'd figure why not hold a little contest of sorts. Just tell me the historical reference that Germany's scar represents, (I count the huge gash and the little scratches snaking off from it as one). If it comes down to a tie (as in both people give me a **_**really amazing **_**analysis of it) then I'll come up with a tie breaker. (But I don't really think it will come to that) Winner will get a one shot from me, it doesn't even have to be GerCan; whatever you want. (Is that even a good prize? Sorry that's all I've got). Anyway, good luck to everyone who enters (if **_**anyone**_** enters…)**


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